


Lingering Prophecies

by Sapphiria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Because He Looks Like Lily Everyone Assumes Harry is a Secret Weasley, Because I Love All The Houses Equally, Fluff and Angst, Formings Of The Second Gen Marauders, Fuck Canon, Gen, Good Slytherins, Gred And Forge As The Ultimate Prank Masters, Harry Doesn't Trust Dumbledore, Harry Looks Like Lily AU, Inter House Friendships, Lovely Molly Weasley, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Normal Canon Stuff But Without A Lot of The Normal Canon Stuff, Ron is a Good Mate, Seer Harry Potter, She's An Actual Good Mum Guys. I Swear on My House, Snape Is In A Bit Of A Pickle, Some Dumbledore Bashing But Not Much... Yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphiria/pseuds/Sapphiria
Summary: Harrision Lillian Potter looked so much like his mother, his eyes however, he had his father's eyes. He was an unsual child, according to those who knew him. His lanky form, his sudden random acts of luck and the emotionless stare he held whilst staring out into the distance. Those, however, could be explained. His form was due to years of mistreatment by the Dursleys, the second was because he was a wizard, the third was because he was a true Seer.Hogwarts has to prepare for a different boy-who-lived, one who is more like his mother than his father. A boy who isn't walking into the wizarding world blindly, who is prepared for the best and the worst that the halls of Hogwarts have to offer with the Philosopher's stone within it's gates.





	Lingering Prophecies

Harry Lillian Potter was an unusual child, according to his aunt and uncle. His appearance was relatively normal, lanky auburn hair and hazel eyes. He looked more like his mother, from who he received his middle name from, but his eyes were solely those of his father’s. Apart from his worryingly short and thin stature, and lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, there was nothing at all that suggested that he was in anyway unusual, strange or as the Dursleys called it, freakish.

What was unusual, however, was how the boy would always have a perfect lack of expression on his face. He never cried when yelled at or when hurt, he’d never growl or snarl at his horrible relatives. It was either that, or he would be staring into space with glazed eyes with the only hints of emotion showing as if he was watching an invisible movie. The Dursleys hated that sort of freakish behaviour, due mainly in part to the fact they had promised to stamp all the freakishness out of the boy. For Vernon and Dudley, this was a relatively easy procedure. For Petunia, however, it was quite hard to slap and yell at a child who in every way shape and form looked the spit of her dead sister. Lily may have been a freak, she may have been one of _those lot, _but despite everything Lily was still her younger sister and whenever she shrieked at the boy, it was as if Lily was judging Petunia’s actions right in front of her.

It didn’t truly matter how hard the Dursleys tried to destroy the freakish parts of Harry, they were doomed to fail in that regard. For you see, the boy was a wizard and with a bit of training, a potentially pretty good one too. No matter how many times Petunia shaved off his hair for it to be back to normal the next morning, no matter how many times Dudley’s “Harry Hunting” sessions ended with his cousin in a hard to reach place, no matter how many times Vernon locked him away in the cupboard, Harry was and always will be a wizard. Muggle interference be damned.

The Dursleys had been preparing to send Harry off to the local secondary school, whilst Dudley was prepped for the wealthiest private school in the area – Smeltings – when the Dursleys’ worst fears were thrown right in their faces. All because of a single letter addressed to one _“Harrison Lillian Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey”_. Upon seeing the wax seal, the stained colour of the envelope, Petunia turned an ashen white. Vernon snatched away the letter as quickly as he could.

“The letter was addressed to me…” Their nephew muttered quietly as the two adults tried to justify why he couldn’t have it.

“It was obviously a mistake,” Petunia snapped, sending dagger glares towards the boy. “Why would anyone send a letter to you.”

“It mentioned my cupboard.” That neither Vernon or Petunia could argue against. The two shared a look with each other before deciding it may be for the best…

“Well, it’s not your cupboard anymore,” Vernon huffed, not entirely pleased about what he was saying. “You’re getting Dudley’s second bedroom. Any funny business however and its right back to the cupboard for you, understand?” Harry quietly nodded, barely showing any joy to finally getting his own room whilst Dudley turned white, then purple, then green then an unhealthy shade of red.

“I DON’T WANT HIM IN MY BEDROOM, IT’S MINE!! WHY DOES HE GET TO HAVE IT?!”

“Diddykins, don’t cry,” Petunia babied her son for a brief while as he began to sprout waterfalls of tears. She gave her nephew a face of thunder, potentially since she had been dragged away from her son due to his existence. “Just grab your stuff and get in there.” Harry once again nodded and left the scene of Dudley’s dramatics, only pausing at the doorway to give his relatives a warning.

“Running from the truth is impossible, and delaying the inevitable will only make its resolve to find you much stronger than before.” With that he walked away, trying to drown out the ear-splitting wails of Dudley’s continuous tantrum.

~0~o~0~

Harry knew he wasn’t like his relatives, that he was unusual. He thought about it as he plopped down on the bed in the corner of the room, eyes glancing over the broken remains of gifts his cousin had received in the past. He knew what he was, a wizard, but not due to a slip of the tongue from his aunt or uncle. Fortunately, Harry had the basic common sense not to tell the Dursleys that he would sometimes dream unusual events – such as a half giant coming to tell him he was a wizard, the death of his parents at the hands of _someone_ who was distinctively not car shaped, his first days at Hogwarts in a world where everyone knew his name – and sometimes these events would visit him during the day. Despite what he saw, Harry still had no idea if his gift – for a lack of a better term for it – was normal within the Wizarding World. It was only a matter of time though until he knew. If Vernon, there was no way Harry was going to call him uncle and give him an ounce of respect, ignored his warning then in a week the Dursleys and Harry would be in a shack in the middle of the sea where Rubeus Hagrid would finally hand him his letter. 

His gift was untrained, unpolished. Hopefully Hogwarts would help him in that regard, despite his visions warning him not to trust the man with the stars and moon on his face during his years studying there.

For the next few days, Harry didn’t fight Vernon Dursley on obtaining the letters as he knew the optimal outcome. He watched blankly as the balding man threw letter after letter into the fireplace, day after day with more letters turning up in unexpected places. Some Muggles, honestly, they try too hard and it never equates to anything if the Fates decide against it. Vernon was the epitome of this as he boarded up the Dursley household so no letters could get in, even smiling manically on Sunday when there was supposed to be no mail. Hogwarts, quite obviously from the tornado of letters that flew in from the chimney, didn’t respect the Muggle mail rules and thus continued the cycle of Vernon Dursley’s fascination with believing he could outsmart actual magic users. If Harry wasn’t so afraid to be beaten by the male relative of his, he would have been laughing in the frantic car drive on the way to the hut in the sea the day before his birthday. Dudley’s comment of, “Daddy’s gone mad, hasn’t he?” nearly burst the dam that was Harry’s hidden emotional state. It didn’t even burst when Hagrid burst in at midnight, scaring the entire Dursley family to the point where he was sure Dudley was pissing himself silly.

“An’ here’s Harry!” Hagrid exclaimed with a smile that kept a well of tears from bursting. Harry was jolted back into reality from seeing Dudley with a pig’s tail. “Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look jus’ like yer mum, but those eyes, they definitely yer dad’s. Right mischief maker, ‘e was. Rubeus Hagrid’s the name, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, jus’ call me Hagrid though.”

“Mischief?” Harry muttered, choosing to ignore the spluttering demands of Vernon Dursley in the background. “I thought he was Head Boy in his last year?” Hagrid’s eyes widened, only by a tad, but it was enough for the new eleven-year-old to see the surprise laced within them.

“Aye, ‘e was. And yer mum was too,” When Vernon began to get too noisy, shaking the shotgun he had brought with them around, Hagrid just turned from his position on the sofa, grabbed the shotgun and tied it into a knot as he was speaking to Harry. “O’ course, yer know all ‘bout Hogwarts, eh?”

“No, not really,” Harry admitted, watching as Hagrid turned visibly red with anger. “Just what I’ve seen from the normal and waking dreams I have. I don’t know much about the wizarding world either.”

“DURSLEY!” The bellowing yell of the half-giant sent the Dursley’s huddling closer into the corner. “Are yer tellin’ me, YER NEVER TOLD ‘IM NOTHIN’?!” Vernon said nothing, whimpering whilst moving behind Petunia, who seemed to have more courage in her pinky finger than he had in his entire body at that moment. Of course, Hagrid was a friend in Harry’s vision, he knew that Hagrid could be trusted.

“They didn’t want me becoming like my parents,” he answered softly. “Called it freakishness and that such a thing was not allowed or to be mentioned in the household.” Harry practically whispered the next part. “They told me my parents died drunk in a car crash, even though they didn’t.” Hagrid turned even redder, if physically possible, and began shaking with a face like thunder.

“A… car… crash…” It was as if something had exploded and Harry felt a wave of warm energy spread over him. “LILY AN’ JAMES POTTER DYIN’ IN A CAR CRASH?! A RUDDY CAR CRASH?! THEY DIDN’T EVEN ‘AVE A CAR! IF ANYONE KNEW ‘BOUT THIS, THERE WOULD BE ‘ELL UP! HARRY POTTER NOT KNOWIN’ HOW ‘IS OWN PARENTS DIED WHEN EVERYONE IN OUR WORLD KNOWS IT! THERE’D BE ‘ELL UP, I RUDDY TELL YER! WHAT OTHER LIES HAVE YER BEEN TELLIN’ POOR HARRY?!” The Dursleys said nothing, Petunia did open her mouth momentarily but a killer glare from Hagrid made her shut it instantly.

“Why would there be such a commotion because of me?” Harry tipped his head curiously whilst mentally sorting through every vision he had seen to date. “Is it because of my scar, or because I defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Have-a-Nose when I could barely speak my own name?” Quite rightly so, Hagrid gave him a stare as if he was crazy, until it was as if a lightbulb had flashed in his head.

“Wait, yer tellin’ me,” The half-giant plopped himself back down on the sofa, beckoning Harry to sit next to him. “Yer saw the night yer parents died?”

“Yes, and a bunch of other things,” Harry took his offer, smiling internally as Hagrid handed him a squished parcel that contained his first ever birthday gift from anyone who wasn’t treating him horribly. “Such as you coming here tonight, and the fact you gave me a chocolate cake right now with green icing. I just… see things I probably shouldn’t. Sorry if I’m not making any sense.”

“Don’t be,” Hagrid was beaming at this point. “Yer couldn’t have known I’d got yer a cake, let alone the kind or icin’. Not only are you a wizard, a right good ‘un once yer trained up a bit, but yer seem to be the first Potter Seer in ten generations, I think.”

“Is that, normal?”

“Nah, not True Seer’s, anyway,” Hagrid began fiddling with the fireplace, setting it up to cook sausages and tea on it. “People fake the gift ter get quick money, see? Dumbledore knows more ‘bout it than me, but yer father’s side had a ten generation Seer tradition. I forgot yer were the tenth followin’ the las’ one. I’ll talk ter Dumbledore ‘bout this once we’ve got yer stuff. I’m sure ‘e has someone who can help yer with yer gift.” He began to focus more on the cooking, watching as the sausages sizzled in the pan he drew out of his giant coat, and as the steam rose from the kettle which he also acquired from his coat. Once the kettle had finished, Hagrid poured Harry a cup before gathering a bunch of sausages to put on a plate for him.

“Are…” The eleven-year-old wizard began to ask, but Hagrid interrupted him pretty quickly.

“Seer’s bein’ rare means they are like treasure. They’re treated well an’ with respect too,” The half-giant snuck a deadly look towards the Dursleys, who were as compactly huddled in fear as they could be with two whales and a stick insect for bodies. “Divination ain’t taught until third year but natural Seers with their gifts unlocked get special lessons, normally from their head of houses.” Hagrid hesitated for a second. “Professor Trelawney should do it, but she’s more a Prophet than a Seer. Dunno whose she’s gonna give the Grimm to this year.” Vernon Dursley had decided enough was enough – mostly likely since Petunia half pushed him into the conversation and told him to sort everything out – and finally decided he should take control of the situation.

“The boy isn’t going!” His voice cracked in places, giving way to an absurdly high pitch. “I am definitely not paying some old crackpot fool to teach him magic tricks and how to be more freakish than he already is!”

“Never. Insult. Albus. Dumbledore. In. Front. Of. Me. Ever. Again.” Instead of yelling, Hagrid spoke in a cold yet calm tone that barely concealed his fury and hatred of the Dursleys. He raised his umbrella back out of his coat and pointed it towards Dudley, muttering something in Latin under his breath before a pink jet of light burst from the umbrella’s tip and hit Dudley square in the bottom. Harry tried to hide his laughter as the curly pig’s tail once again appeared from his cousin’s buttocks, this time in the real world. Vernon roared, Petunia screamed and the Dursleys hurried themselves into the room next door, slamming the door shut and locking it so no freaks could get in. Hagrid gave Harry an apologetic smile.

“Sorry ‘bout that there,” The groundskeeper for Hogwarts mumbled behind his thick beard. “I’m not supposed ter be usin’ magic, ‘specially not on Muggles. Could yer not tell anyone ‘bout that?”

“Of course not,” The boy smiled gratefully. “I’ve been waiting for you to give Dudley a pig’s tail all night.”

“Well ‘e was already a pig, jus’ needed the finishing touch.” Hagrid beamed as he picked up on the soft chortles of his current charge. “That reminds me, here. For you.” With that, Hagrid pulled out a letter with the Hogwarts crest on the back and calligraphy on the front in emerald. Whilst Hagrid ate hungrily, Harry slowly opened up his letter, finding two pieces of parchment inside. One was short and sweet, the deputy headmistress telling Harry he’d obtained a place at Hogwarts and that he gave his consent that he would be added to the student list for that year. The other contained a list of everything he needed for the first year.

“We can get all of this at once?” Harry asked, re-reading over the equipment list multiple times.

“In Diagon Alley, yeh, but we’ll leave in the mornin’.” Hagrid grabbed a scrap of parchment and began to scribble on it, most likely writing to a high-ranking member of Hogwarts staff that he had found who he was looking for and was planning on taking Harry to wherever Diagon Alley was to get his stuff. Harry had seen the long winding street before, in his visions, but he didn’t know where it was in relation to England. Was it near Surrey, was it in London? He didn’t know at that moment in time. “Eat up, yer lookin’ like skin on bones!” Harry realised he had been leaving his sausages unattended and gobbled them up quickly, his hunger more important than savouring the taste. “Yer certainly enjoyed that, eh? It was there ‘un then, gone!”

“I was rather hungry,” Harry admitted sheepishly, eyes now gluing themselves onto the gorgeous looking cake Hagrid had brought. “I haven’t eaten much since yesterday. We didn’t bring along many rations.”

“Heh, stupid Dursley,” The half-giant snorted, happily handing over a large slice of cake to the newly turned eleven-year-old. “Dun worry, we’ll make a day of it in the mornin’. Give yer a proper birthday te remember. Anythin’ should be better than a night in this ol’ place.”

“Umm, Hagrid…”

“Yeh?”

“I was told I wasn’t going to be paid to go to Hogwarts, and I’m guessing we need to buy everything on the equipment list,” Harry began to twiddle his thumbs, slightly nervous that he was being thrown into a situation his sight hadn’t given him a glimpse at. “How can I afford all of this, let alone the tuition fees for attendance and accommodation?” Hagrid simply laughed heartily, picking up his own slice of cake and began to munch for a bit before answering.

“Yer thought yer parents would leave yer without any money?” His dark eyes sparkled slightly, illuminated by the crisp packet fuelled fire. “Firs’ stop tomorrow, Gringotts. That’s a wizard bank, yer know. Yer parents left yer money in yer own vault. I ‘ave business of me own there too, but it’s gettin’ late now…” True to Hagrid’s word, Harry suddenly felt very sleepy most likely due to finally being full of food for the first time in his life. He tried to hide the fast approaching yawn and horribly failed, to which Hagrid just smiled softly at. The giant of a man pulled off his overcoat and handed it to Harry, eyes flickering over to the ratty blanket that had once poorly covered the boy. “Here, take this. Sorry, it may ‘ave some mice in it but it’ll keep yer warm.” Harry took it gratefully, not used to receiving such kindness from anybody, let alone an adult.

“Thank you so much, Hagrid.” He mumbled after he had wrapped it around himself, settling into the sofa. Hagrid had settled himself on the floor, quickly using magic – once again Harry promised not to tell anyone – to conjure up a blanket and pillow.

“No problem, Harry. Now yer get some sleep. Busy day later today.” And with the warmth of Hagrid’s coat and a soft place to rest, Harry’s eyes closed and he drifted of before he could even say goodnight.

~0~o~0~

If it wasn’t for countless nights dreaming about this moment, and the countless days living through it, Harry would swear waking up in the hut was a dream that morning and the tapping at the door was Petunia was rapping at his old cupboard door. Curled up underneath the comfortable warmth of Hagrid’s coat, however, solidified the truth for his sleep weary brain. Harry curled up tighter underneath the coat, not wanting to wake up as the knocking got louder and more impatient. Fortunately for him, Hagrid seemed to have got the message and got up to answer it, mumbling something about a ruddy owl in the process. He rose from the sofa, still hugging the coat around him, blinking the sleep wearily from his eyes whilst Hagrid was writing a note to someone.

“Ready teh get yer things, ‘Arry?” The giant asked with a beaming smile.

“I have been waiting for over a decade for this,” At the confused look he received, Harry continued. “In response to your question, yes I am.”

“Oh, right.” After a quick breakfast of leftover birthday cake and reheated sausages, the two left for the mainland in the boat Vernon Dursley had rowed them all in, water still left behind in the bottom. The ride was sped up thanks to some magic from Hagrid and went very quietly, Harry just enjoyed watching the boat speed to shore without any visions plaguing his mind. As much as he loved his gift, especially since it did terrify Dudley a fair bit, it could become frankly annoying when he was suddenly unaware of the world around him and forced to see something potentially traumatic from the future, the present or the past at any time. It made him even more of a freak to the Dursleys, gave them even more fire for beatings and verbal abuse.

The boat ride didn’t take long and soon the two were on a train to London. Hagrid’s loud marvels at the technology muggles created caused the boy to be half embarrassed, but from what he had seen about the wizarding world he couldn’t blame the half giant for his excitement. It was as if magic had made the wizarding world old fashioned, remaining within the age of the medieval whilst the non-magic folk looked ahead and tried to make their lives better through inventions. Once the two had managed to make it through the underground, Harry found himself being dragged into a mouldy, dank inn which was obviously hidden by magic spells considering none of the other muggles were noticing its décor choice.

“Hello Hagrid,” the bartender smiled. “The usual.” Noticing the shivering from beside him and the sort breaths Harry was taking, Hagrid took that as a sign to quickly leave.

“Nah, Tom. Hogwarts business,” he replied, cuddling Harry closer to his side with one arm. “Helpin’ a muggle born get their things.”

“Alright then,” Tom said sadly. “See you around.”

“Course!” Hagrid waved Harry through the back entrance, looking down at him worriedly. “Not so good with ‘ther people?”

“No, not when you know all of them would clambering to stare at you like a creature in a zoo,” the boy answered honestly. “I didn’t want to have them talk about my fame when that fame was caused because of my parents’ deaths. I didn’t want reminding of what happened, that’s all.”

“Oh?”

“Being famous because someone tried to killed you and made you an orphan isn’t something I want to be constantly reminded of,” Harry took a shuddering breath, rubbing his hands up and down his upper arms for warmth. “I just want to be me, be Harry, without death floating over my head. Why do you think I try and keep my scar covered?” Now he was paying attention, Hagrid couldn’t see the signature lightning bolt scar underneath the long auburn bangs. The half giant gasped, feeling incredibly guilty about what he could have potentially pulled Harry into, and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry ‘Arry,” he said. “I shoulda known.”

“Not to worry,” the boy muttered softly. “Let’s just get some money, get my things and then I can count down every day for a month until I can leave the Dursleys.” Silence reigned as Hagrid pulled out his umbrella, mumbling to himself about which brick to touch. “Mint chocolate.”

“Huh?”

“Ice cream flavour, I like mint chocolate,” a small smile graced Harry’s lips. “For when you’re coming back from your post Gringott’s pick-me-up.” Hagrid began barking with laughter, tapping his umbrella on the right brick as he did so. It was rather warming to hear, not like the harsh snarls that came out of Vernon Dursley’s mouth when he supposedly laughed. A part of Harry wished he could beg Hagrid to stay with him for the next month, for the next 32 days until the first of September, but he couldn’t. So, instead, he decided to make the most of today whilst he could.

“I’ll never get used ter yer doin’ stuff like that,” Hagrid admitted, leading the two down the cobbled stones of Diagon Alley, letting the eleven-year-old marvel at the store fronts as they headed down to the white stone building right at the end of the alley. “Course, Trelawney sprouts stuff too, be she ain’ all that accurate on it, ever. Like I said, ‘Arry, she’s more a prophet then anythin’.”

“She doesn’t sound all that…” Harry paused, trying to think off the least offensive word he could use to describe this woman he’s never physically met. “…good, from what I’m hearing that is.”

“Granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney, the great Seer,” the half-giant grunted, dodging kids who were running up and down the streets with books and toys in their hands, most likely too young for Hogwarts yet. “Told Dumbledore a true prophecy, ya see? The year yer were born, If I’m right. ‘E keeps ‘er on followin’ that dere day.”

“Oh.” Was all Harry had to say as the two finally entered Gringotts. What followed was a rollercoaster ride to the Potter family vaults which were loaded in wizard money and an empty looking vault following Hagrid’s request. Of course, the half-giant did indeed need a pick-me-up following the three neck breaking rides through the tunnels of Gringotts so Harry headed to Madam Malkin’s alone to get his robes. A nice lady led him to get fit on a footstall, right next to a boy with ash blonde hair and a constant smug look on his face, which turned into a sneer when he caught sight of Harry.

“Ginger hair, clothes that look like hand me downs from muggles,” he scoffed, looking Harry up and down. “Didn’t know the Weasleys’ could afford new robes.” 

“Huh?” Was all Harry could respond back with, not expecting that kind of response to his appearance. Sure, Dudley’s second-hand clothes were bloody awful to wear but they were designer hand me downs. Only the best for Dudders, as Petunia would say. Plus, who was he talking about when he namedropped the Weasleys, sounded like a well-known wizarding family.

“And stupid too, now that I remember it,” the boy continued, stopping to scowl at Madam Malkin’s assistant who nearly poked him with a pin. “All Gryffindors, so add reckless and rash. Honestly, my father says your mother shouldn’t have opened her legs if she didn’t have the money to feed all of those mouths of yours.” Harry said nothing, holding his tongue from defending this random family he had never heard about. His mother was dead because he had been born and he was very sure Mrs. Weasley was a lovely woman who worked hard to deal with having multiple children and staying afloat. Heck, instead of laughing at her, drawling boy over there should be giving her a bloody medal. “However, I’m sure I’ll be Slytherin, just like my father and mother. Sly, cunning, actually intelligent. Although, Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad, it’s the house of the smartest. You, Weasley, should just be lucky you’re even heading off to Hogwarts at all. What, did your mother sell something so you could get new robes to lord over your siblings?” Just as Harry was about to snap, Madam Malkin stepped in with a frown.

“Malfoy, Draco,” she stated in a tone that was drenched in venom. “You’re done. We’ll send the robes to your father’s estate as requested.”

“Oh, bummer,” Malfoy stepped down regally, as if he was the King of England, and turned back to Harry. “See you at Hogwarts, Weasley!” He swept himself out of the shop, finally allowing Harry to let out his frustrations with a loud sigh.

“Never in my life, implying such things,” Madam Malkin huffed as she finished sizing him up for his robes. “If he is the face of the future heirs of Noble and Ancient houses, then I am worried for what our future holds. Horrible parenting caused that, never learnt manners or respect.” She somewhat calmed down whilst finishing with Harry, smiling by the end of it through the small talk they made. “There and done, dearie. I’ll have finished with your robes in an hour or so. You can come back then to collect them once you’ve finished the rest of your Hogwarts shopping.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Harry smiled, noticing Hagrid holding two ice cream sundaes outside the shop window.

“No problem, sweetheart,” Madam Malkin smiled back, wandlessly rolling up her measuring tape. “It was nice to have a customer who showed me and my team a bit of respect.” Nodding back to her, Harry made his way out of the shop to meet with Hagrid, the two then grabbing a table outside of Floren Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour where he had grabbed the sundaes.

“Hagrid?” Harry asked, having just eaten a spoonful of his ice cream. “Who are the Weasleys?”

“Huh?” Was all that Hagrid replied, almost having bitten off the end of his spoon whilst eating. “Why would yer be askin’ ‘bout ‘em?”

“Because an awful boy in Madam Malkin’s thought I was one of them,” the eleven-year-old boy answered his question, stirring his spoon around his half melting dessert. “He was saying really awful things about their mother and I was about to open my mouth to defend them, despite the fact I had no idea who they were.” The half-giant roared with laughter, slamming a hand down on the table which almost sent the ice cream glasses flying into the air. 

“Bloody ‘ell, ‘Arry,” there were tears forming in the corners of Hagrid’s eyes, he went to blow his nose with what seemed to a tablecloth that had come out of his giant coat. “I didn’ think that yer havin’ Lily’s looks would cause somethin’ like this ter happen. Yer see, the Weasleys are an ol’ wizardin’ family with ginger hair, nearly the same shade as yer’s. They don’ have much money, but they make do with what they ‘ave. Molly, bless ‘er soul, does her best with seven kids. An’ with yer pig of a cousin’s ol’ clothes, I see why that boy thought yer were one of ‘em.” Harry bristled internally. Whilst yes he was wearing Dudley’s oversized hand me downs, they were highly expensive hand me downs. This shirt alone cost Vernon Dursley £60 alone when it was freshly brought.

“They were all Gryffindor’s,” Harry repeated what the horrible boy had said, putting the spoon gently into his empty ice cream glass. “Is that a Hogwarts house?”

“Aye! Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff,” Hagrid downed the rest of his dessert, treating it like a drink with his head tipped back to guzzle it down. “Yer get sorted into ‘em when yer arrive at Hogwarts. There’s a house cup all the houses compete in, supposed to create inter-house unity. A load of codswallop, if yer ask me.”

“Why is it codswallop?” The eleven-year-old asked, glad he was finally getting information about the world he was going to enter but only had brief visions of.

“Cos it’s only caused the big upsets between Gryffindor an’ Slytherin,” Hagrid groaned, plopping his glass back down on the table with a force that almost shattered it. “Mos’ Gryffindors believe Slytherins’ are evil, yer know, cause you-know-who was from there. An’ mos’ Slytherins’ hate that so they fight back with taunts an’ childish jabber. Professor McGonagall is tryin’ to stamp that all out an’ actually create inter-house unity. But she ain’t doin’ too well with that, too many family squabbles now from years of history.”

“Oh.” Is all Harry could say, not really having much else to save about it. The two got up from their seats after that, quickly stopping by at the Owl Emporium to pick up this beautiful snowy owl as an extra birthday gift from Hagrid. As he had seen in the future, Harry decided to call her Hedwig which she seemed to like somewhat. With that sorted out there was only one place left to go, Ollivanders. The inside was filled with boxes of wands, all unique and different from the wand next to it. For students of Hogwarts, it was the place to get the wand that would stay with them throughout their lifetime as a witch or wizard. The man behind the counter, Mr. Ollivander, had this air about him that seemingly made Harry feel uncomfortable. That, however, might have been because of the fact the man was looking over him from top to bottom. 

“Ahh, Harry Potter,” the man said suddenly, almost making both Harry and Hagrid jump out of their skins. “I was waiting for the day you would enter this store to get your first wand. You look just like your mother, yes, I remember like it was yesterday. 10 and ¼ inch, willow, light and perfect for charms, oh yes perfect for her. But your eyes, those are just like your father. 11-inch, mahogany, best used for transfiguration.” A part of Harry wanted to turn tail and leave the shop, this man was more than creepy but then again, he had sold his parents their wands, he was probably pretty old at this point. “Now then, I’m sure I could happily catch up with Rubeus over there with his broken wand but today, we should focus on you.”

“Sir?” Harry asked politely, glad Ollivander nodded for him to continue. “Would it be alright if I tried a certain wand?”

“A certain wand, my boy?” The store owner inquired, sharing a confused look with Hagrid, who simply shrugged at him.

“11-inch, holly wood, phoenix feather?” The eleven-year-old was used to the shocked expressions that came from his ‘gift’. Already knowing what his wand was before he even made it into the store saved a lot of destruction and allowed them to leave the store quicker. “I believe you should have a wand like that.”

“Why, yes… indeed,” Mr. Ollivander looked pale, rushing back into the store to grab the wand’s box from the pile. Returning to the front, his hands shook as he handed the case over, not daring to take the wand out himself. “Have a wave, Mr. Potter, have a wave.”

Harry took the wand from the box, smiling as a warm feeling travelled over his body and reached what felt like an inner core. Behind him, Hagrid began whooping and clapping whilst Ollivander seemed to simply stare at the boy.

“Like you said, Mr. Potter,” the store owner whimpered. “That wand was made for you, you are definitely bound for greatness. It’s quite curious how you knew that was the one destined for you. The phoenix who gave the feather used in that wand gave out one more. It’s curious since its brother feather…”

“Went into the wand who gave me my scar, right?” Harry finished him, subconsciously reaching up to the cut on his forehead, tapping it gently with his fingers.

“Exactly.” Mr. Ollivander confirmed, bobbing his head in a nodding motion. “Well then Mr. Potter, that will be nine galleons.” With the payment made, he bowed to the two leaving his shop. “Farewell, may your endeavours at Hogwarts be fruitful.” Once outside Ollivanders’, Harry took a good look at his new wand, wondering why the fates had selected him to wield the sister of the wand that killed his family and failed to kill him. Hagrid noticed this and planted a reassuring arm over the boy’s shoulders.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, ‘Arry,” the half-giant told the boy. “Yer nothin’ like you-know-who was. Yer gonna make a great wizard and yer gonna do fine!”

“Thanks, Hagrid.” Harry smiled weakly at the attempt to console him. “I’d like to grab my robes and head back now. It’s been a long day.”

“Alrigh’.” the two began walking back towards the Leaky Cauldron, weary from the day’s events. Hagrid used the train to get back to Surrey and dropped Harry at the front door of his relative’s house. Before he left, the gentle half-giant gave the boy a soft hug with a gentle reminder of goodbye and that he’d see Harry at Hogwarts soon. Soon enough, Harry was alone at the Dursley’s doorstep, just as he had been ten years prior. This time, however, instead of with a letter whilst being wrapped in swindling, he stood with his school equipment and a ticket for Platform 9 and ¾ for September 1st.

“One month,” Harry reminded himself as he went to knock on the door. “You can survive just one more month of them. Then, you’ll be free.” With a deep sigh, he scrunched his eyes up after hearing the arguing inside about leaving him on the doorstep like they should have done a decade ago. When the door opened, he was already prepared for Vernon’s slap to the face. One more month of this torment, and then he’d be at Hogwarts. 


End file.
